Scrapbook of a Dimension-Traveling Sideshow
by JJGrace42
Summary: Side stories, missing scenes, crack!fics, what ifs, POV changes, and AUs of the Samsaric Universe. Rated M for violence, strong themes, and language.
1. Crybaby

**EXPLANATION:** Stories that are consistent with the main _Samsaric_ storyline are labeled _canon_. Stories that are written for the sole purpose of being wacky/wrong are labeled _crack_. Stories that differ from the _Samsaric_ storyline or take place in a different dimension/universe are labeled _AU_.

 **Author Note:** Just a short piece that allows for a peek at what the poor ANBU were going through during Mirai's little tantrum upon discovering she was a baby. Read and review!

DISCLAIMER: ANBU is not mine. Naruto is not mine. Demons aren't mine either. Just generally speaking, let's assume everything isn't mine. Mirai, though, is mine.

 _Canon_

* * *

 **Crybaby**

"Demons. That's what they are. Demons from the bowels of hell, sent here to torment us by taking away our precious peace and quiet." Neko slumped into one of the kitchen chairs with a whimper and buried her face in her arms. Her mask clicked against the tabletop and pressed harshly against her cheek. To her left, someone chuckled and elbowed her.

"They're not that bad. They're actually kinda cute once they get to sleep."

"Sleep?" she hissed, snapping her head up and glaring at him. "Don't talk to me about _sleep._ They don't sleep," she spat. "Evil doesn't sleep, don't you get it?"

"I think you're taking this a little far." Mokin unclipped his mask from where it sat over his face and set it down. "They're just babies. It's not like they're doing it on purpose."

"Easy for you to say. You didn't spend all night trying to get her to stop screaming odes to the devil!" With a dramatic sob, she unclipped her own mask. "This just isn't fair," she whined.

"Maybe she's sick," Uma mused, joining them at the table with a plate of fruit. "Naruto cries, but not nearly as much as she does."

Mokin shrugged, skewering a grape with a senbon and lifting it to his mouth. "Ari checked both of them over yesterday. Full medical workup and everything. Not a thing wrong with them—either of them. Perfect health."

The wails started again, echoing off the walls and rattling in their skulls.

Neko sniffled, slouching forward. "Make it stop!"

Uma glanced towards Mokin. The second man held up his hands. "Hey, don't look at me. There's no way in hell I'm going back into that war zone."

"I'm certainly not calming her down. Last time I held her, she bit me. Bit me!"

Neko shifted so that her cheek was pressed into the tabletop. She glared at Uma. "She doesn't even have teeth, you wuss."

"She has the jaws of a wolf, though," he muttered, shaking his hand out. "Is that a normal baby thing?"

Mokin pressed his hands over his ears. "For the love of everything good, someone shut her up!"

The crying stopped.

Mokin blinked. "Is that what I think it is?" he whispered, lowering his hands.

Neko held up a finger to silence him. "Shush!" she urged, staring wide-eyed out at the hallway. They all froze, the lack of sound crawling across their skin. Then a laugh bubbled up in her throat. Neko bent over, clutching an arm around her waist and giggling frantically. "Do you hear that?" she gasped out. "It's _quiet._ " With a squeal of delight, she leaned back in her chair and grinned. "We're free!"

"Well, she's broken," Uma muttered. His gaze flicked to Mokin. "Twenty ryo that she's out in six months."

The other ANBU scoffed. "She's tougher than that. It'll at least be a couple years before she drops out." Despite his words, he eyed the female nervously. She had stopped her laughing and had collapsed across the table, asleep.

Uma arched an eyebrow. "Fifty ryo," he teased, a smirk tilting his lips. "C'mon. If you're that confident in it, then you've got nothing to lose, right."

"Hundred ryo and then you're on."

"Deal."

Mokin skewered another couple grapes and popped them into his mouth. He tilted his head to the side, considering their unconscious comrade. "She's really out cold."

Uma grunted in response, tossing an apple from hand to hand. He took a bite out of it, splattering juice everywhere. Some of it splashed across Mokin's face like spittle, but the ANBU didn't flinch. He simply rubbed it away with the back of his hand.

"We should probably wake her up. The table is hardly comfortable."

Another grunt. Another crunch as he bit into the apple. Uma's attention flicked momentarily to Neko's unconscious form before he returned it to his fruit.

"I volunteer you."

"Like hell I'm waking her up," Uma snarled. The words twisted the scars stretched across his face and a chunk of apple plopped from between his lips to the table below. "You risk your own ass, not mine."

Mokin rolled his eyes and waved a senbon at the other nin, prepared to argue. But before he could, another sharp cry split the air. Mokin's eyes widened in a panic and he glanced towards Uma. The other shinobi dropped his apple. "Not it!" With that, he disappeared. Neko muttered something in her sleep. Mokin looked helplessly at the empty chair across from him before letting out a string of words the kunoichi would skin him for if she was awake. Mirai was still crying.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, shoving the chair backwards as he got to his feet. He clapped his mask back over his face. "I'm coming. Don't get your coils in a knot. Sheesh." If possible, her screaming wails only got louder.

And in that moment, Mokin thought Neko might be right.

Mirai really was a little demon.


	2. Storge

**Author Note:** A guest reviewer suggested the idea of writing a piece about Kushina or Minato being alive to help Mirai during her nightmare. I liked that idea, so I took it, ran with it, and it turned into this. There might be a couple other AUs similar to this (what if Kushina and/or Minato survived) in different situations/parts of the storyline/ways.

And I do realize that Mirai is acting a bit differently here. If Minato and/or Kushina had survived, Mirai would be different. In the main storyline, she's taken control. She's the one in charge, the big sibling, the leader of the family. But if they still have parents, she wouldn't be able to take that position. Keep in mind that she was a stubborn sixteen-year-old when she died, and so being relegated to the position of a child with someone else trying to take the place of her (original) parents wouldn't necessarily sit easy with her. Hence, a different kind of Mirai.

Don't forget to read and review!

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, not mine, Mirai's mine.

 _AU_

* * *

 **Storge**

"Touchan?"

There was something wrong with the way she said the word, as if she thought it was fragile and would break on her tongue. The warble in her voice squeezed around his heart, pounding it violently against his ribs. He curled his fingers into a fist and shoved himself up. It took a moment for him to drag the lethargy from across his eyes and focus. "Mirai-chan," he slurred, voice tired with sleep. "What is it?"

She said nothing, her tiny figure silhouetted by the dark hallway. Her small hand was still raised, pressed against the wood door. Her other hand flinched, tapping nervously against her thigh.

Minato pulled himself up fully and turned, his feet hitting the cold floor. "Come here, sweetheart," he murmured. He held out his hand to her and waited. Naruto would have run to him, like he had so many times before, and he would have scooped his son up into his arms and hugged him tightly. But Mirai was not her brother. She was slow and methodical and all too often she looked like she had seen ghosts. So he waited, giving her the time and patience he knew she needed.

Her hand dropped from the door, twitching nervously against her side. She took a step forward. The floor creaked beneath her feet and a tremor ran up her body as she froze in place. Her jaw clenched tightly and she shuffled her feet as she moved, reducing the chances of upsetting more loud floorboards. She paused in front of the bed and peered up at him with violet eyes—Kushina's eyes.

"Touchan?" she asked again. There was a definite crack in her voice this time and something like fear played in her gaze. "I had a nightmare." She spoke those words with an odd twist of the tongue, almost as if she didn't quite believe herself. "Can I sleep with you?" Her tiny hand slid against his and she curled her fingers around his thumb. She was shaking.

"Of course, Mirai-chan." He moved backwards, leaning up against the headboard and holding her hand tight. She scrambled up onto the bed next to him. "Do you want to tell me about your nightmare?"

"No."

The word was short and clipped and dry. No inflection, no shift in tone. Just an answer. She shifted forward and pulled her hand from his.

"Touchan?"

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"Can I hug you?"

He had heard once about how words could break a person's heart. Maybe it was Jiraiya-sensei who had said it to him; he certainly wouldn't put it past the man to say something that profound. But it wasn't until he heard his own daughter whisper those words like her life depended on it that he realized that it was true. Because he felt his blood cool as his heart stopped beating. "You don't need to ask me that. Of course you can. You don't need to ask."

Mirai nodded curtly, her hand spasming against her thigh again. Then she threw herself forward and he felt her arms tighten around his neck as she tucked her head against his shoulder. He could hear the way her breaths trembled and caught in her throat. He wrapped his arms tightly around her and all he could think of was that this was his baby girl. And he could smell the fear on her.

"Why do you think people die, Touchan?"

The words hushed against his ear and he swallowed thickly, hoping she couldn't hear it. "Why? That's . . . just the way things are, sweetheart. It's the natural order of things. Things are born, they live, and then they die. The world wouldn't work otherwise." A pause. "Why do you ask?"

She settled in his lap and her weight dragged on his neck. She didn't loosen her grip. He ran his fingers through her loose hair and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, giving her time to answer. But she didn't. "I don't want Naruto to die," she rasped. "I don't want him to die before me."

And there it was again, the way his heart ceased working and there was ice in his system, freezing across his lungs. He felt his voice raise in shock. "Mirai-chan—"

She flinched.

Minato snapped his mouth shut and took a deep breath. "Gomen. Why do you say that?"

A shaky breath. He could hear her fast heartbeat over the deafening silence. "Do you ever get scared?"

He'd never really noticed before how she never seemed to address his questions. It couldn't have always been like that, he was sure. But he couldn't think back to a time when she'd actually given him an answer. "Everyone gets scared, sometimes."

"What if you're scared all the time?"

"Are you scared all the time, sweetheart?"

"I don't think it's normal to be scared all the time. Do you?" Her arms finally loosened and she leaned back to look at him. Her eyes were like stone.

"I'm . . . not sure. It doesn't sound like a very nice way to live."

She tilted her head to the side and then pulled her arms back, curling them to her chest. Mirai twisted so that she was leaning against him. "It's not," she murmured. "It's not very nice at all."

Minato looked down at her. She'd closed her eyes and her lips had pressed together in a thin line. He drew his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. "I love you, sweetheart," he murmured.

"I think I love you too, Touchan."


	3. Here

**Author Note:** This was a different path I took with the whole "What if Minato survived and was there for her nightmare" idea. Pretty different from the other snippet I posted. This is more just snapshots of the first couple years of the twins' life with their father. I hope you enjoy. Read and review!

DISCLAIMER: Unfortunately, Minato isn't mine. Nor is Naruto, both the character and the story. Mirai is also not mine; she's an independent woman who don't need no author.

 _AU_

* * *

 **Here**

Naruto slept. A lot.

He'd been worried at first— _what if he's sick? does he have chakra exhaustion? what do I do if he doesn't wake up?_ —and it had taken Tsunade literally slapping him to halt his panic attack in its tracks. Then she had sat him down and explained in very clear, very loud, and very angry terms that Naruto was a normal, perfect, healthy child. The lecture was several hours long and took up most of his work day. At the end of it, Minato had glanced away from the diagrams thrust in his face and simply asked, "So Naruto's okay?"

As it turned out, he was.

When he wasn't sleeping, Naruto ate. And ate. And ate. And ate. And ate. Sometimes Minato worried about Konoha running out of formula. But eventually, Naruto would be satisfied and he would get just a couple minutes of peace with his son before he fell asleep again. He practically lived for those small moments, holding the fragile being that was his own flesh and blood and watching as those small eyes tried to focus in on the world around him. Minato would whisper his name to him— _Naruto, his sweet Naruto—_ and play with his tiny feet.

But then Naruto would fall back asleep and it would be over.

* * *

Mirai was not a happy child.

Her screaming kept him up at all hours of the night and his body hurt from the lack of sleep. His heart hurt more, however, because his daughter was crying and there wasn't anything he could do. He would hold her, but she would simply writhe angrily in his arms, almost like the contact was too painful for her to bear. When he tried to sing her to sleep, her cries only got louder and more raw. Maybe he was doing it wrong, and the thought that he didn't know what he was doing as a father hung heavy around his neck.

"Chakra hypersensitivity."

Minato jerked his head up and blinked the tiredness from his eyes. He wasn't sure anymore if the screaming in his ears was just echoes or actually Mirai. "Sorry, what?"

"Your daughter has chakra hypersensitivity," Tsunade repeated, crossing her arms and staring down her nose at him. "Meaning, your daughter is extremely reactive to chakra. It hurts her."

"A-and the holding is—"

"Negligible. As long as you avoid chakra use around her until her coils are more developed, there shouldn't be any serious consequences."

"But the screaming. And the—"

The woman grunted, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him to his feet. "Sometimes kids are just angry and loud, Minato. There's nothing you can do about it. It's not your fault—it's not anyone's fault. That's just how she is. Give her a while; she'll calm down. They always do."

* * *

He should have died instead.

Kushina, after all, was the one that should have been there with the kids. She was more prepared, more ready, more experienced with the idea of _family._ He'd never really thought about balancing life as a father and as Hokage before because he'd never imagined it without her. And he often found himself wishing that he'd died in Kushina's place; maybe they needed a mother more than they needed him.

And then Mirai stopped making noise.

It wasn't that her screams died off, or that she didn't cry as much, or even that she was quieter. She simply stopped. He snapped his head up, flailing wildly for a moment before peeling the document—probably something important, but he didn't really care—from his cheek. "Mirai?" he slurred tiredly, his ears ringing from the sudden lack of sound. It took a moment for him to register that there was no sound at all. Not even the sound of breathing.

His heart rammed against his lungs— _she wasn't breathing, she wasn't crying_ —and he nearly broke his own ankle as he stumbled over to the crib. Minato curled his fingers tightly around the railing, feeling the wood give beneath his grip, and he stared fearfully down into the bed.

She stared back at him with wide eyes— _Kushina's eyes._

"You're okay," he murmured. "You're okay, and you're not crying." He reached down and then suddenly pulled back, hesitating. She could start screaming again, and that was the last thing he wanted.

A gurgle. He looked down to find her tiny arms waving towards him. She made another odd sound and he felt his heart crumble. "Mirai-chan," he whispered, lifting her delicate body into his arms. "You're okay. You're okay."

* * *

His kids couldn't be more different.

Naruto was a menace to society—a cheerful, ramen-loving, orange-wearing, happy menace, but a menace nonetheless. He spent his days running up and down the halls of the Tower, leaving devastation in his wake. His ecstatic laughter echoed through the building like a nightmare. Minato loved his son, but sometimes he wondered if Naruto was the devil.

Mirai was not her brother. She was quiet, a stark contrast to the screaming she'd done in her first few weeks of life. Sometimes it scared him because she would go hours, even complete days, without saying a single word. He worried. But Mirai seemed to live in her own little world—a world that revolved around Naruto. The most she spoke was around her brother, her sentences filled with soft echoes of _Nato_ as she playfully ruffled his hair.

But sometimes she stared at Minato like she wasn't seeing him at all.

* * *

Someone was screaming.

That was all Minato knew as he snapped out of bed, landing on the floor in a crouch with a kunai clutched in his hand. He blinked, glancing around the empty room. He wasn't under attack. But someone was still screaming. He tilted his head and rose slowly to his feet. It was the screaming of a child. But that couldn't be possible. There weren't any—

His heart stopped twice in the time it took him to make it down the hallway. He slammed open the door and stood there, chest heaving. His gaze danced over the room—no intruder—before snapping to Naruto's bed.

It wasn't him crying.

"Mirai," he muttered incredulously, stumbling towards her. She was curled in on herself, clawing at her chest and shrieking like her lungs were burning. "Mirai," he said, the reality finally settling in. He snatched her up into his arms, cradling the toddler against his chest. "Shh, Mirai," he murmured. "It's okay. It's okay. I promise." He tucked his head against hers, closing his eyes as her screams died off into choked sobs. "It's okay. Touchan's here. Touchan's here, Mirai. I promise."

Then her sobs wound down into whimpers and she clung desperately to him as if she was expecting him to disappear. "Touchan," she whispered, her voice raw.

"I'm here, sweetheart. Touchan's here."


	4. Cat's Paw

**Author Note:** The title (and idea) for this little snippet is based off the dictionary definition for the phrase _cat's paw._ To be a cat's paw is to be something (or, more typically, someone) that is used by another, usually to carry out an unpleasant or dangerous task. The phrase comes from the Aesop fable entitled "The Monkey and The Cat" in which the monkey tricks the cat into reaching into the fire to pull out the chestnuts roasting there, promising that they'll share. The cat does so and, as expected, burns his paw. And then, in the cat's moment of distress/injury/weakness, the monkey gobbles the chestnuts up and leaves the cat with nothing. I thought it was a rather appropriate representation of the Hiruzen/Mirai relationship, both at this point and later on.

This is a POV change snapshot. This scene is from the main storyline and can be found near the beginning of _Chapter Five - Cognizance_ (so if you haven't read that, go read it before you read this) _._ The plot/dialogue of this scene is going to remain the same, but the point of view has shifted. Hiruzen, or rather the Sandaime Hokage, is very old, very wise, and very experienced. He thinks about the world differently and notices things that Mirai doesn't notice. Because of that, the narration is different and includes things that Mirai didn't include in her POV. Also, an important thing to remember (especially when reading close POV/1st person POV) is that you can't always trust the narrator to be reliable. I write what the character shares. Just as when a real person tells a story, POV narrators leave things out; this means that the differences here in this scene aren't mistakes, they're just a different perspective. After all, no two people see the world the same way.

Enjoy, read, and review!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own _Naruto_. Really, do any of us own anything? Or is the idea of possession simply a materialistic concept created to allow us to wrestle with our own lack of control?

 _Canon_

* * *

 **Cat's Paw**

"In that case, Mirai-chan, would you fancy playing a round with me?"

Her head snapped up, though she caught herself smoothly and the tension rolling off of her in waves softened. Her eyes—sharp and intelligent like her father's, but with her mother's rage—searched him for a moment, almost as if she was looking for something that wasn't there. Then she didn't nod, she didn't even acknowledge the question. She simply turned the board so the black pieces sat in front of her and continued to set it up. He arched an eyebrow. She wanted to go first, then? A rash move, perhaps. Or perhaps not. It wouldn't provide control, but the tone of the game was very important; setting that tone was more so.

Her first move was simple—just a pawn, moved to make way for a bishop. He hummed in response as he made his own move, but she didn't say anything. Hadn't said anything since before he'd asked for the game. Behind her, Naruto was playing with his dominos and other toys with dramatic noises and waves of his arms. Every time the boy would make a sound, Mirai's head would twitch minutely back towards him. Her hands didn't seem to like staying still, almost seeming to spasm at random times. Then her fingers started tapping against her thighs as she leaned forward, dark gaze flickering across the board in thought.

"What is it you enjoy about shogi, Mirai-chan?" He nodded his head to her, indicating that he was patient for her to speak. It seemed to be a good thing, because she certainly wasn't in any hurry to answer him. The skin around her eyes pulled tighter as she contemplated her options. Hiruzen's hands itched for his pipe, but he simply waited. He was sure that, whatever her response was, it would be worth it.

Mirai lifted a hand—it was steady for a moment, but then Naruto mumbled something to himself again and her fingers twitched to the side just slightly. Then she touched her silver general. "It's realistic," she said dryly, almost as if the question bored her. She tugged the piece backwards and it caught on the dip in between spaces for just a moment before sliding into place.

His gaze jumped to his rook—her move had done nothing to affect him and he wondered for a moment if she knew what she was doing. It was clear she understood the rules, but her strategy was lacking in any sort of energy. He moved his rook forward. "How so?"

She lifted her hand. But then she paused over her bishop, cocking her head to the side. Her fingers drifted to a pawn instead. "They're all different. Different abilities and ranges, even the ones that are the same." There was only the barest hints of inflection in her voice and he watched as she gestured lightly to one side of the board and then the other, her head just barely turning back towards Naruto again. "A pawn that starts over here will never be able to do the same things as a pawn that starts over here." There was a curious look in her eye, like she was just realizing this for the first time herself.

A slight turn of his hand moved his lance. It certainly seemed like she wasn't trying to win. Or maybe, he thought, she had confused his other pieces with his king. Something in her gaze told him that wasn't the case. "I've never heard anyone describe it that way before, Mirai-chan. Quite imaginative. Which piece is it that you like the most?" His gaze lifted to her face to gauge her response.

She didn't look up from the board, fingers drumming soundlessly on her legs. "The gold general." Despite those words, she moved her bishop, finally taking advantage of the opening he'd left. Pity that it was a trap. "He can move in almost any direction, with just two options missing. But with just a little patience and an extra move, he can get there anyway." Then she lifted her gaze to his. There was darkness in the girl's eyes, and he knew that she knew that this was far more than just a game of shogi.

He moved a knight. She would have to learn to expect snares in the future. "The gold general can only move one space at a time. Not terribly quick." Children were supposed to be impatient, weren't they? His certainly had been, and her mother had been far from forbearing.

Her knight moved, capturing the one he'd just set up. He arched an eyebrow. She had seen the trap, then? Or maybe the king hadn't been her goal, though that was the only way to win the game. "You don't have to be quick to be powerful."

He knew that, of course. It was common knowledge among shinobi that speed didn't equal victory. Hiruzen moved his lance. "You know you're losing."

"Hai," she commented offhandedly, as if it didn't matter. She captured his rook, ignoring her king's plight. "Two more turns."

She knew, then. More than that, she knew what his next moves were going to be. There was no surprise in her eyes when he moved his knight. "You're not trying to win." He didn't phrase it as a question, but he meant it as one. And seeing as her lips drew in a frown, she knew it too.

Another capture. His gold general fallen to the whims of a pawn. "No, I'm not," she agreed, her voice falling flat again. There was no attempt to disguise the emotion in her voice; there was no need for that when her words were completely devoid of feeling in the first place.

His knight clicked against her king and he nodded subtly. "You've tried to damage me as much as you could, knowing you couldn't win." A shinobi mindset, if he had ever seen one. A dangerous perspective, but a valid one. For a moment, those violet eyes reminded him of bandages and a broken arm. Her jaw tensed and this time her entire body shifted backwards as Naruto dramatically knocked down his domino tower.

"I couldn't just give up."

"No." He allowed his lips to curl just a bit and could no longer resist the itch for his tobacco. He wrapped his fingers around his pipe and drew it out. Those words, the meaning behind them, were familiar, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing. "Mirai-chan?"

A brush of her arm knocked the pieces askew onto the table and she folded up the board. "Hai, Oyaji?" She picked the pieces up one by one, slotting them into place.

He sucked on his pipe for a moment and released a smoky breath. "What's your favorite thing about shogi?"

Her entire body stopped moving and her eyes glazed over. Then another sound from her brother made her twitch and the spell was broken. She put away a few more pieces and then picked up the two that remained. She held them for a moment, observing them like she'd never seen them before. "I suppose," she mused, speaking almost as if he wasn't there, "my favorite part is that, at the end of the game, the king and the pawn," —she paused and if he didn't know better he would say she was putting on a show as she put the game pieces away— "both go back to the box." Said box slammed closed so loudly that Naruto jumped and Mirai's right elbow pulled just barely backwards.

He bit his teeth into the wood of his pipe. There was no avoiding what she was implying and he wasn't sure how to respond. This was no shinobi, no soldier. This was a child. But for a moment he thought that she could fool someone into thinking otherwise. Perhaps there was just a hint too much of Minato in his daughter. "You're quite the child, aren't you, Mirai-chan?"

"A child?" Her voice cut through the air with more intensity than any of her actions that day had spoken of before. "Yes, yes I am."

And then Hiruzen found himself in a staring match with a young child—a prodigy, a genius, an intelligent and old soul, but a child. He hadn't felt like second guessing himself in a long while, but there was that uneasy feeling in his gut that refused to leave. Mirai didn't blink. This time, when Naruto laughed loudly in his play, she didn't move. Hiruzen bit his pipe again.

Perhaps it was time for him to leave.


	5. Baby Babble

**Author Note:** This was written at the request of a guest reviewer. I'm not as happy with it as I would like to be, and the attempted fluff was out of my normal comfort zone. I typically write darker things, after all. Even the fluff I normally write is a little gloomy around the edges. But this was so entirely innocent that it was a real struggle and I rewrote it a good four times before realizing it wasn't going to get any better. With that in mind, I won't necessarily tell you to enjoy. But I will ask you to read and review!

DISCLAIMER: Alas, the world of _Naruto_ and the characters within it aren't mine to own.

 _AU_

* * *

 **Baby Babble**

Broken, meaningless syllables bubbled between Mirai's lips, lilting and rising and falling in an odd sort of infantile melody. Curled against her with his thumb lodged firmly in his mouth, Naruto slept soundly. His breath whispered quietly through the air, falling in pattern with the rise of his tiny chest.

"Aren't they just the cutest?" Kushina whispered, hugging Minato's arm. "Look at her," she cooed. "She's already playing big sister."

"Kakashi said she was trying to speak earlier," he murmured. "And Tsunade told me she's showing signs of early intelligence."

"Of course she is. She's _your_ daughter, after all." She glanced to the side at him, smiling.

"Is that an accusation?" He cracked a smirk and tucked an arm around her waist.

Kushina paused and then grinned. "No. No, it's not. It's a challenge." She drew away from him, expression smug. "I bet she'll say Kaachan first."

He scoffed. "As if. Mirai's a daddy's girl, through and through."

A hiccup drew their attention back to their kids. Naruto was awake now, eyes wide with a chubby hand pressed against his mouth.

 _Hiccup._

An enormous grin stretched Mirai's toothless mouth and that pure, childish laughter poured from between her lips. Kushina snickered and then pulled from Minato's arms. "Aw, my poor baby!" she cooed, sweeping Naruto into her arms and rubbing his back. "Do you have the hiccups?"

Something about that made Mirai's giggles grow louder. Kushina settled on the floor next to her daughter. _Hiccup._ "Do you find that funny, Mirai-chan?" she asked playfully. When her daughter's laughter softened, Kushina scrunched up her nose and stuck out her tongue. That set the smaller redhead off again and her laughter was so heavy it knocked her onto her back.

Minato sat down next to Kushina and reached out, dancing his fingers across his daughter's stomach. She shrieked hysterically and then rolled to the side to get away. Then Minato met his wife's gaze. _Hiccup._ Her eyes narrowed. "What's with that look? What are you planning?"

"Mirai-chan," Minato said, watching as the baby calmed and pushed herself back up so she was sitting again. Her curious, intelligent eyes turned to him. "Can you say Touchan?"

 _Hiccup._ "What, dattebane!" Kushina screeched. "You can't do that!" She leaned forward, bouncing Naruto in her arms. "Say Kaachan, sweetheart. Say Kaachan!" _Hiccup._

"Touchan. C'mon, you can do it." Minato grinned widely. "Tou. Chan. Touchan."

Mirai began to smack her lips, some vague representation of sound spilling between them. _Hiccup._ Naruto squirmed in his mothers arms, but Kushina narrowed her eyes at her daughter. "Don't you dare. Say Kaachan first. Say Kaachan, dattebane!"

Mirai wrinkled her face, staring first at her mother and then her father and then back again. "Nnnnnn." _Hiccup._

"What's she saying? Is it Touchan? You've got it. Touchan!"

"No, no, no, she's saying Kaachan, you idiot!"

"I find that hard to believe." _Hiccup._ "Does that sound like Kaachan to you?"

"Does it sound like Touchan, dattebane?"

"Nananananananana." Mirai cut herself off, her lips twisted in infantile displeasure. Minato and Kushina caught their breath, leaning closer. _Hiccup._ Mirai fell forward and caught herself with her hands, crawling towards her mother. Kushina threw a triumphant look in Minato's direction. Chubby fingers closed around Naruto's foot.

"Nato."

There was a pause, filled with disbelief and more lip-smacking on Mirai's part.

"Nato," she gurgled again, fingers tightening around her brother's foot. _Hiccup._ "Nato."

"Well, shit."

"Kushina! Language!"

The woman pouted. "Gomen. But I thought for sure she was going to say Kaachan."

The silence was loud. Then Minato grinned.

"I bet she'll say Touchan next."


	6. Quiet Lines Vol 1

**Author Note:** This is a soulmate AU where any marks you put on your own skin show up on your soulmate's body as well. This will have a sequel eventually (someday), but for now it stands decently enough on its own. And I know that my profile has been promising a different Scrapbook Fic for a while, but Kin is taking a bit longer than I thought to write. This was an idea I had last night and I ran with it. So please enjoy, read, and review!

DISCLAIMER: Really? We're still having to clarify that _Naruto_ isn't mine?

 _AU_

* * *

 **Quiet Lines Vol. 1**

The funny thing was that Sophie had been a doodler. Back Before, she'd always had a pen in hand with ink scrawled habitually across her skin. The black—because she had other pens, but none of then had ever looked quite so right against her own pale tones—was an escape, of sorts. The stresses of day-to-day life always seemed to melt away as the pen's tip massaged its way across her arms and legs, leaving behind patterns and poems and whispers of who she was.

Mirai was also a doodler.

She was almost two by the time she managed to get her hands on a pen in this world and she was pretty sure Neko had a heart attack when she found the toddler sitting in the middle of her room with flowers and abstract memories of a world gone by curling around her wrists and across her tiny arms and stomach and stretching down to her toes. The woman had let out a horrified shriek and then promptly whisked Mirai away to the bathroom to scrub the ink off.

It didn't do much good because there were new masterpieces adorning the redhead's skin just a day later.

It went on like that for two more years and Mirai had long since lost count of just how many pens had mysteriously disappeared from the Matron's office whenever the woman was distracted. But then the time came when it ended, as all things had to.

It had been a normal day, as far as normal ever got for a reincarnated jinchuuriki. They were sitting under the sakura tree in the front yard like a tiny, broken family. Lee was babbling about learning to read. Naruto had taken one of his sister's hands in his and was tracing the inky art staining her skin. And Tenten couldn't stop staring.

"Are you trying to talk to him?"

Lee jerked his head to the side to stare at the brunette, jaw clicking shut in surprise at being interrupted for once. Naruto's fingers paused on Mirai's skin. And it took the redhead a moment to realize that she was the one Tenten was addressing. "Talk to . . . whom?" She cocked her head to the side.

The other girl waved wildly at Mirai's arms, marked so heavily and so stained with grey that it was hard to see any real skin. "If you're trying to talk to your soulmate, wouldn't words be better than pictures?"

Mirai couldn't help the giggle that bubbled at the back of her throat. They had fairy tales here too, it seemed. "Soulmate?" she asked, a grin stretching the Kyuubi marks on her face. "Don't be ridiculous, Tenten. What are you talking about?"

Tenten frowned, but it was Lee's reaction that really knocked her off-balance. "It's not ridiculous, Mirai-chan!" he gasped, almost as if he was appalled. "Daiki laughed at soulmates too, but the Matron told us all about it! They're real!"

"I promise!" Tenten rushed to say, seeing the doubt curling across her friend's face. "They're real and you share what you put on your skin."

Then amused suspicion washed away to pure, unadulterated horror. "Wh-what?" she rasped. And then she yanked her stained arm away from Naruto like it would burn him if he touched it any longer. "You mean that all of . . . this," —she waved her ink marred hand at them— "is showing up on . . . someone else?"

"Your soulmate," Tenten said in a matter-of-fact tone with all the tactfulness of a five-year-old. She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that she had just ripped apart any taste of security Mirai had ever felt.

The redhead shot to her feet, already turning towards the building with her lungs in her throat and her shallow breaths coiled around her spine. She took her first few fumbling steps before the panic grew heavier against her neck and she whipped around, holding out an inky hand. Naruto's blue eyes stared at her before he nodded slowly and slid a clean, unblemished hand into hers. And then she jerked forward in a run, her heart twisting at the way her brother yelped and whimpered something about his arm hurting. But she couldn't stop. She didn't stop. She kept running and running until they reached their room and then she couldn't run anymore because the entire world had given out from under her feet.

Naruto stumbled forward and she slammed the door, falling backwards against it and barely registering the thump jolting up her spine as she hit the floor. The first sob pushed venomously against her lips but she refused to open her mouth and refused to make a sound. She swallowed back the cry that had been filing away at her teeth and took a deep breath.

Her drawings of her old world and her old life and her own emotions were laid out so vividly through just a simple pen in order to help her make sense of the Void inside her head. And all of them had been appearing on someone else. She felt violated, as if someone had taken the darkest and deepest secrets of her soul and read them aloud.

"R-rai?"

She vaguely remembered once Before when she'd tried origami. And oh man, had she been bad at it. Her fingers were too rough and her grip was too strong and she would make delicate flowers and swans only to have the brittle paper rip and snap between her hands.

She hated that her brother's voice reminded her of that paper.

Violet found cerulean and a gasp fell from between her lips. "Nato," she breathed. And then her gaze dropped to his arm—and to the red imprint of her fingers around his hand. "Oh, I— Nato, I'm sorry," she whimpered, crawling forward on her hands and knees and then dragging him into her arms. She cradled him close. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean to hurt you."

He sniffled, curling contentedly against her chest. "It's okay. Do your drawings really scare you that much?"

She didn't answer, feeling tension settling into her jawline and staring at the ink across her skin. She scrubbed herself raw in the bath that night to get all of it off. Mirai refused to say a word to Naruto about how all the pens in the room had suddenly disappeared or how sometimes she washed her hands until they bled. But she didn't doodle; she wouldn't anymore.

It was a month later when she found ink on her skin again.

 _Why'd you stop?_

The three words were faded, as if they'd been rubbed over and over until they were faint, and they almost blended with her tanned skin. But they were impossible to ignore, curling across the soft flesh of her inner wrist and staring at her when she woke up. It took everything in her power to swallow her scream.

And if Naruto woke up to find her standing in the bathroom with puffy eyes and the skin on her forearm rubbed raw, then she would simply make him promise to never talk about it.


End file.
